


Friendship

by Skullszeyes



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempt at Humor, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Loneliness, Male Friendship, Out of Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2019-05-09 06:32:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14710920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skullszeyes/pseuds/Skullszeyes
Summary: Bruce visits Jerome.





	Friendship

**Author's Note:**

> I watched a video on yt - Bruce/Jerome || No Angels [Gotham]  
> It gave me an idea of writing a sort of friendship between them, although I would have liked No Angels to be on spotify so I can be in the mood, but unfortunately it's not on there for some odd reason.  
> I want to write a fanfiction between Bruce and Jeremiah, whenever the ideas come to me. I tried to write this fic with a bit of romance, unfortunately I can't write romance, also...Bruce is under age and Jerome and Jeremiah might be adults, so it's weird.  
> I was going to put this on my tumblr, but it was too long and I didn't want this text on my blog. :/
> 
> Comments and/or Kudo's are appreciative.

“Everything will change,” Jerome announced, standing on a mahogany table with several empty plates and cups, he was barefoot and was wearing a red robe. His arms were extended outward and he was looking out the window. “And when things change, we become different, we  _ are _ different.”

Jerome had a knife in his hand and when he heard the slightest creak that interrupted him, he pulled back his arm and tossed it toward the sound. His eyes widened when he caught the door closing the second the knife embedded itself into the wood near the door knob.

“It’s just me,” Bruce said, slowly opening the door.

Jerome scowled. “I almost killed you.”

“I didn’t know what to say.”

“A greeting would suffice,” Jerome said, walking along the table and jumping off, he reached for the knife and tore it out before grabbing the door and pulling it open. Bruce looked up and gave him a smile. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to see you,” Bruce says.

Jerome arched a brow. “Be honest, Brucie, is your little cat friend too busy to entertain you this evening and you must come bother me? Or do you truly want to see me in all of my glory?” he asked, a smile twitched at the corner of his lips.

“It’s the afternoon,” Bruce says, “and I can’t find Selina, so I figured she  _ is _ busy, and what glory? You’re talking to yourself on a table in a bathrobe.”

Jerome rolled his eyes. “You were never fun.” He turned and picked up a tea cup at the end of the table, placing it to his lips and taking a sip. 

“I don’t think you are either,” said Bruce.

“We,” Jerome placed the cup down, “have different opinions on  _ fun. _ ”

Bruce shrugs. “Death isn’t fun, nor when it comes to others.”

Jerome had to remind himself that the things Bruce seen him do was always going to end up as a scar on his mind. Even now, Bruce glances around, analyzing the area, hoping there weren’t many people in the stolen apartment. 

“We’re alone,” Jerome remarked.

Bruce looks at him. “How would I know that? You could be lying.”

Jerome breathed in, licking his bottom lip as he walks over to Bruce. “If I were lying, you’d be strung up in a chair with a camera in your face, some makeup plastered over your forever frowning exterior, and let me tell you, we’d be having a lot more fun than idle chit-chat.”

Bruce’s face stays in his  _ forever frowning  _ expression, and Jerome, who always enjoyed finding people’s weak points found this quite entertaining nonetheless.

He leans closer to Bruce who is against the table, fingers on the chair, his gaze never leaving Jerome’s. 

“Why did you come here, Bruce? Tell me the truth?” Jerome asked, a smile splitting his face.

“Like I said,” Bruce says, his voice shakes, “I came to see you.”

“I feel so special that Bruce Wayne of all people would like to visit me.” He steps back, reaching for his tea cup, “Most of the people I know never like to see me.”

“Maybe it’s because you kill people without questioning your actions,” Bruce says, and this time he steps toward Jerome, a sort of look of determination swells in his eyes.

“I kill,” Jerome tilts his head, “who said that? I assure you I don’t kill anyone. There are liars in this city, bad people who would like to give a man a really bad day.” He places a finger before Bruce’s face, “Don’t believe those liars.”

“I don’t,” Bruce says.

Jerome nods, giving them both space as he moves towards the window and opens it up. “That’s good, someone like you should be truthful, is that why we’re friends? Because you say nothing but the truth in all its proficiency?”

“I don’t think so. I’m not sure why we’re friends, you tried to kill me more than once.”

Jerome looks over his shoulder, a grin on his face. “Games! It was nothing but harmless games.”

“I recall people dying during those harmless  _ games. _ ”

Jerome watches Bruce walk closer to him, even though he tried to distance them. There’s a sort of connection between them that Jerome likes to expose, but Bruce seems to find himself in those situations where it’s far too easy to coax from dark corners in both of their hearts.

“You’re almost hilarious,” Jerome says, “I don’t say that to many people.”

“I thought I was boring.”

“You are that too,” Jerome shrugs, “but never believe in what I say when I tell you that your decisions in meeting with me are quite absurd.”

“I agree,” Bruce says. “I won’t believe you because you’re as lonely as I am.”

Jerome’s brows rise. “Wow. Bruce, you really know how to make a man feel lonely in his awkward disposition.”

“You’re the one that said we’re alone.”

Jerome shrugs. “Come now, is this really something pity to talk about, or shall we do something more interesting.”

“What would be more interesting than our conversations?” Bruce asked. He always seems to stand with his head tilted up, and Jerome, who sees the perfection in him can’t help but wonder if Bruce could lose a bit of his sanity for maybe an hour.

Jerome reached out and before Bruce could do anything, he yanked him forward and tipped him out the window. 

Bruce gasped, his body tensing. “Jerome, let me up.”

“This is fun,” Jerome says, his fingers digging into Bruce’s blazer. “Isn’t this fun? Imagine falling to your death, imagine the fun it’ll incite, I could truly take the blame for this.”

“It’s your fault nonetheless if you let go, don’t blind yourself to a victim,” Bruce says, trying to reach for the window ledge.

“No one in this world is a victim, Brucie, if you die, people will have parties all over the city, and I’ll wear the crown of taking down Bruce Wayne of all people.”

“I’m not a threat.”

Jerome leans forward. “You will be, in the future, but that’s what makes this hilarious, the fun you will grant me and this city, a change that we all crave. That’s why—” He pulled him back into the room and shoved him against the table, “I won’t kill you.”

Bruce pushed him away and stumbled back toward the door. His eyes wide, hands shaking as if he didn’t know what to do or where to go.

Jerome watched, smiling. “That’s why we’re friends, isn’t it? We can’t truly kill each other, it’ll be wrong for future events.” Bruce grabbed the doorknob, “It was nice seeing you, Bruce, I hope you visit soon.”

Bruce gave the man a glare and walked out of the room. 

Jerome turned back toward the window of Gotham and contemplated on what events he’ll conspire for the day. He hoped Bruce would visit again, but knew his friend wouldn’t stay away, some people were too addicted to the thrill of a dangerous life.

  
  



End file.
